


wintertide dreaming

by princetemerarem (LocketShoru)



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Accurate Norwegian Weather, Albafica’s POV, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Winter Season, mostly comfort just alba has anxiety around that poison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocketShoru/pseuds/princetemerarem
Summary: Albafica has several things to call his own. Hot cocoa, a sleeping Spectre on his stomach, a roaring fire... Perfection, basically.
Relationships: Griffon Minos/Pisces Albafica
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	wintertide dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> This one was all but requested by Yume @gssprmcst on twitter, who straight up promoted Aria to all her followers and told me she loved it, which is basically the highest compliment I could ever receive save for someone marathoning my entire archive with full kudos and reviews. So like, pretty high.  
> Anyway. She wanted winter and Alba appreciating Minos’ existence so here. I wrote this at work and now get to post it on mobile during my break. It’s quiet and mostly cancellations today. Goddamn plague out on the streets.

The mug of hot cocoa tasted of rich warmth and sugary goodness, both rare treats in the land he currently found himself in. Even more a rarer treat was the warmth presently settled against his stomach, peacefully asleep and cosmos indicating a dream of something pleasant. He hoped it was him that Minos was dreaming of. Maybe it was a little self-indulgent, but a man can wonder.

Albafica ran his free hand through the silver locks, soft and silky and thick, like the mugs of warmed cinnamon milk they’d made together just a few hours prior. Minos shifted in his sleep, ever so slightly, under the fur blanket to burrow his face a little more firmly into Albafica’s abdomen. Even now, his hands firmly gripped his sides, as though ensuring he wouldn’t vanish in the night. 

He wouldn’t, and he had told him in so many words several times, but he supposed the old fear of losing him would never quite go away. It wouldn’t be the first time. He sighed softly, reaching down to tug up the blanket up to Minos’ chin, hoping he was warm enough. Stoking the fire in a way that wouldn’t poison them both would require getting up, and he was hoping not to have to move anytime soon, lest he wake his sleeping lover. Waking him up would be both a blessing and a crime: Minos kissed him better when he was awake, but he didn’t get as much sleep as Albafica thought he should.

Even now, lit only by the fire and the soft moonlight through the window, even Albafica had to admit that he was beautiful. He hated the word and what it meant, but perhaps he was using a different connotation. Minos wasn’t something to be looked _at_ , like a pretty object meant for viewing, but he was someone to admire from a distance, like a painting that offered something more than the strokes of ink on the canvas. He was a puzzle to be pieced together and a contrary nature to keep up with, and Albafica couldn’t help but love him, even as he punched holes in his ego as they laughed.

The snow fell gracefully outside, so far undisturbed, in the quiet late November night. The rains had finally slowed to a thick, peaceful snowfall, and it wouldn’t be at least until tomorrow morning when anything would start to trample around and ruin the image. The blood staining the white landscape red, the corpses left undiscovered under the blanket of innocence.

Or at least, that was how Minos would describe it. He could guess, at this point. He was better at the poetry, and he wouldn’t deny he had been eyeing a book of it that Minos had left on the coffee table for the past hour. Perhaps once he’d finished his cocoa, he’d page through it, pick through the inspirations of his lover’s mind and understand his thoughts just that little bit better.

Minos made a soft noise in his sleep and rolled over onto his other side. Albafica slipped his arms around his ribs and adjusted their positions, allowing him to settle with his head on his chest, tugging up the blanket to ensure they both stayed warm. It was far too cold to go outside, even to restock the woodpile. Regret twinged in his gut, the faint sorrow of not being able to keep the fire going using his cosmos: rosevines burned well, but the toxic smoke would slaughter everything around him, including the lover he badly wished to stay by his side.

Minos didn’t fear his poison. Albafica still did, and the ribbon of fear in his chest slipped its control into him, and he pulled Minos closer to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, burying his face in his soft bangs. Elysium, he didn’t want this to end. 

The starlight scent of cosmos below him shifted and glittered, ever so slightly. Startled, he pulled back, finding his gaze locked with soft violet eyes.

“What’s wrong, my siren?” Minos asked, barely above the volume of a whisper. His voice was a caress against his soul, and he pulled him close, pressing his face into the soft part of his neck. Minos slipped his arms around him, moving close with an almost protective grace, his cosmos flaring to envelop them both with its dark warmth.

He would never care to see the midnight sun again, if it meant he never had to leave the embrace of that darkness. Stars were pretty and functional, yes, but he’d learned far better to memorize and navigate by the glittering in his lover’s cosmos, and so far, hadn’t lost his way once.

Minos’ hand slipped under his shirt and started to rub soothing circles into his back, keeping close, ensuring that he knew neither of them was going anywhere. He breathed in the scent of his neck, lightning-studded and almost sugared with the smell of ink and new parchment. They weren’t in battle, it didn’t have the dark undertone of fresh blood and the joy of slaughter. Just Minos, the Judge, the one who had always lit his way since the day they’d met. He couldn’t imagine his life any other way, and yet, if Minos had gotten hurt…

He pulled him closer, fingers gripping the back of his shirt collar, fear slipping through him like a scalpel. Minos shifted his weight back and pulled away, leaning his weight onto one arm. Albafica looked up, cosmos flaring almost green with fear. If he was leaving…

Minos sat up and started to unbutton his shirt, discarding it over the nightstand. He gave a soft smile, cosmos fading into something darker, more powerful. They both tended to mask their cosmos whenever possible, finding it easier to allow the world to think they were never there, as opposed to making everyone get used to them. No, Minos wanted the world to know he was there. His hands slipped to the buttons on Albafica’s shirt, gently undoing them, maintaining eye contact.

He wanted him to see him do this. Usually, it was because he wanted Albafica to know his every movement, to have the ability to stop him if he preferred. He didn’t much care, at the moment. He could have drowned in that gaze, violet and welcoming. If Minos’ hands were on his chest, he probably wasn’t leaving. If he wasn’t wincing with the pain, he was also probably not having any ill effects.

Minos slipped his hands under his shoulders and he acquiesced, allowing him to discard his shirt as well. He settled back down on top of him, chin resting against his collarbone, his right hand returning to rubbing circles into his back. “My siren,” he said softly, just before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his jawline.

Honestly, his cosmos was probably sparkling more than a face full of glitter when Minos’ lips made contact with his skin. The knot of fear in his chest released, gave way, and fell away entirely, chased away by that love shining in those dark stars of his lover’s cosmos. His touch was gentle and warm and all Albafica could do was pull him in closer, until Minos’ lips met his own and his hands found themselves tangled in his hair, and all the oxygen in the world wouldn’t have stopped him from gladly suffocating in his embrace. 


End file.
